LXG: The Berlin Party
by Cetacious
Summary: An alternal version of the League of extraordinary Gentlemen movie. Same mision, new party: A detective, a Phantom, a Ferral, a Monster, a Lost Soul.


League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Berlin Party  
  
Chapter First: Introductions and a little rant  
  
It was strange to see a gentleman in such fine dress, with melon hat and walking stick, slender through the cold dry night of the Berlin suburbs. The massive block buildings and monotone straight streets were filled with the hunger of the proletarians who had moved to the city in search for a job of this great industrial revolution. But as all great promises, it disappointed most of us in the end, and thus the massive suburbs had come to be some of the most discontent and dangerous areas in the country. No place for this extremely pale chevalier who also looked obviously foreign.  
  
But the mud of the apparently empty roads or the peeking eyes and whispers around him did not bother the walker at all. Because, in deed, tonight there was something much greater to worry about. The gentleman heard a horse approaching, a large and hasting horse, furiously heading this way. An old warrior had returned to his homeland tonight. He had been looking for his vengeance all this years, and even after dead he kept on searching. All scoundrels immediately hid away as they felt him coming. The nobleman stood still and leaned onto his stick. The rider was every time closer and finally turned around the corner, showing his enormous dark figure. It was the one our walker waited for: He had no head.  
  
Quickly the horseman drew a blade from his back, an enormous sword a century old, and hasted towards the expecting chevalier.  
  
-Monsieur Horseman, - the gentleman spoke up- I think I know where your REAL head is.  
  
The enormous black horse raised his front legs into the air, only centimetres away from his face, then fell loudly back to standing and did not move. The horseman swung the blade in his hand and pointed it towards the chevalier's neck, without a word. In all those decades the weapon had always been sharpened, ready to behead. But now, for the first time, it stood still, only menacing, yet not attacking.  
  
-Yes, Monsieur Horseman, I think you heard me right. I am a very keen researcher and have come to find your lost part. Age 32 with a large impact by a cannon ball on the left, is it not? Apparently you could feel yourself it was no longer on the American side of the sea, where you initially lost it. In deed, it is somewhere here in Germany and I can show you where. If...  
  
At that last word the blade raised once more in an aggressive gesture. However, the speaker continued:  
  
-...you accede to do your country and me a little favour. Ooh, I know you are a mercenary and don't mind about Germany much, but otherwise you'll probably never find it. C'est beakoup de temp, n'est-ce pas?  
  
The weapon lowered to the rider's hip and started slowly turning between his fingers.  
  
-I knew you where an intelligent person, Monsieur Horseman. Ghouls don't need a head for that... Only for their absolution, they do. Don't worry; you'll have it soon. If you may accompany me to the hotel now, I would be pleased.  
  
The horseman slowly raised his sword, than violently shed it again onto his back. His body relaxed in a sign of defeat and hang onto the sides.  
  
-Oh, if you would mind for a moment- the chevalier took off his hat and handed it to the phantom-. You will be more comfortable in a city if you use that. My name is Auguste Dupin and I am truly pleased to meet you.  
  
Pulled by the gentle hand of the Frenchman, the dark devil horse for the first time walked at a calm pace, carrying his master pensive and expecting towards the more gentle centre of the great city, full of medieval houses and churches. The horseman had seen it several times before. It had changed so few. Maybe now he was taking a radical decision, he thought. For the first time not beheading, but listening. It had never been his way, but in all this years his way had not worked. One would have to do the try. See what this strange sir was after. Although wearing a hat was no good start, indeed it was humiliating. Finally they stopped at the modern building of the Wertehaus Hotel. The devil horse was left by the door as its master rid off and followed his guide into a room on the third floor.  
  
The dim light of an oil lamp shone onto the small alcove from upon the night desk, standing by the small bed in the corner. Next to the bed's feet was a door and next to its head a brown couch on which sat a man. He was in his mid twenties and had brown, dirty long hair. He dressed a white shirt and black suit and trousers. However, the shirt was opened up to his chest and wrinkled, his feet bare and stepping onto the couch. His left hand held the one of a lady of his same age, standing by his side. She showed a beautiful pale face and brown hair bound into a chignon, wearing a pure white dress.  
  
As soon as Dupin locked the door, the ghoul took off the hat angrily and threw it onto the floor. This all was worth at least an explanation. The human pair looked at him in disbelieve and open-mouthed.  
  
-Mister Dupin, what is this...- the lady hesitated.  
  
-Don't worry, Mademoiselle, he's on our side. He is, as you may guess, a phantom. He lost his head and knows I can give it back to him, so he will help us. He is a stupendous rider and a strong sword master besides of being immortal, since he's already dead. I think you may call him just by the name of Horseman. Would that be alright with you, Monsieur?  
  
The ghoul did not give any kind of answer but remained showing his back towards the three humans, wondering what the Frenchman and the dirty boy could possibly have in mind.  
  
-Well, Monsieur Horseman, these are Mademoiselle Jane Porter and Monsieur Tarzan Clayton of Greystoke. Lord Greystoke grew up in the African jungle with the apes and has thus developed remarkable abilities. Mademoiselle Porter is only escorting him within the city, but will not be departing along with us.  
  
The phantom still did not react but stood like an inert statue. Departing where? That was not an answer. No one would be departing from here if he didn't get reasons, he was going to make sure of that.  
  
-Now I would like all of you to meet one more comrade- the host continued-. He is actually Swiss but has lived many years in the arctic due to his misanthropy. I beg you not to mind his appearance, he is very sensitive about that.  
  
Dupin walked up to the door by the bed and opened it. A man came in, an enormous man. His muscles were like swollen and his skin completely transparent, revealing all the motions his body did below it. The whole of him sewed up here and there, like made of many pieces. His face revealed rough traces, as made by inexperienced hands and his eyes were filled with an infinite sadness. The dim light favoured him, for many more grotesque details roamed his body. The ghost only turned intrigued to face him. This could mean the Frenchman had an idea, after all. Jane could not help but driving the left hand to her mouth and Tarzan jumped up onto the back of the couch with an animal yell of alarm, which was only answered by a much louder scream of grief and despair from the newly arrived. The creature jumped forwards and with a slap of his hand threw the bed into the air and against the wall, doing a monstrous noise. It did not come to hurt anyone, so he took it up once more and raised it deliberately against Jane, who got slapped down by Tarzan in less than a second before the structure impacted the wall above them and maid the entire room shake by its force. The creature yelled up once more, retracted the bed and slammed it towards the opposite wall, right at Dupin, who did not move an inch as the phantom stopped the attack with both hands and all the strength it had. He decided to protect this eccentric host. After all he seemed to have a clue, unlike anyone else, a clue not worth wasting.  
  
-You said it would be fine! - the monster cried at the Frenchman, who dug down just as the horseman weakened and got squished against the wall - You said... You said I could make them change!! LIER!!!  
  
The creature now just furiously smashed the bed against the floor, making it crack in two, then ran to the side of Tarzan but did not attack him. He only sent him a savage look from his black tearing eyes, then turned his back to him and raised the oil lamp in his hand.  
  
-Better be careful with that- Dupin said, getting up and rearranging his suit a bit.  
  
With another cry the monster threw the light towards him, but the fireball got clashed in mid air by the sword of the headless warrior, extinguishing slightly and leaving the room in a complete darkness. The only man who might lead the Hessian to freedom now disappeared in the shadows. That thin pail Frenchman could get squished any moment and with him, any idea of where his long lost head was. All the warrior could do now was hitting the darkness, guided by the struggle of the air, trying not to kill the one he protected.  
  
In our next edition:  
  
Chapter Second: Enter the devil 


End file.
